


Apple Pie Life

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Dean Winchester and Donna Hanscum [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, F/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds out that maybe the apple pie life is possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple Pie Life

 

The smell of coffee was what drew him from sleep, followed by the sounds of people moving around the bunker. He opened one eye and stretched, reaching across the bed, finding it empty. She must already be up. Which meant -

“Daddy?”

A small blonde head peered around the edge of the door, wide green eyes looking questioningly at him. A dimpled smile spread across Emmy’s face when she saw Dean sitting up to look at her. She waited about two heartbeats and then she was flying across the room and jumping into his arms, tackling him back onto the bed.

“Oof,” Dean joked, falling backwards. “Hey, princess.” His arms went around Emmy, squeezing her tight. This was the best part of his day. “Where’s Mommy?”

“She’s with Uncle Sam and Jay,” Emmy sighed. “Jay is grumpy; Mommy’s mad.”

“Let’s go see what Mommy’s mad about,” Dean chuckled, pushing himself out of bed. He padded down the hall, Emmy in his arms, pattering on and on about the picture she was coloring, Jay crying all morning and Mommy making her mad face.

“I’s coloring at the libury table with Uncle Sammy, ‘cos Mommy’s not happy,” she shrugged. “Uncle Sam said to leave Mommy alone to be mad.”

“Well, let’s see if I can help Mommy with your brother,” Dean said. “So she’s not mad.”

Sam was at one of the long tables in the library, piles of books surrounding him, a coloring book and box of crayons across from him. His wife was sitting in the corner in the recliner he’d put there, their seven-month-old son on her lap. She frowned when she saw Emmy in her father’s arms. 

“Emeline Katrina, you didn’t wake up your daddy, did you?” she sighed. “I told you to let him sleep.”

Dean shook his head and set his daughter on the chair in front of her coloring book, leaned over Donna and kissed her softly. 

“I was awake,” he murmured against her soft pink lips. “Besides, you should be the one sleeping. Why didn’t you let me know he was up?”

She shrugged, reached up and cupped his face in her hand, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone, sighing a little a little as she kissed him again, her forehead resting against his.

Five years and she still made his heart skip a beat.

He plucked his son from Donna’s arms and rested him on his shoulder. Jay squirmed, fussing, his tiny hand fisting in Dean’s t-shirt.

“He’s fussy?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yah,” Donna mumbled. “Woke me up real early. I think it’s his stomach, again.” She stood up, stretched, and tucked herself against Dean’s side, her arms around his waist. “I’m gonna go shower. You’re in charge, Daddy.” She stopped long enough to kiss Emmy on the cheek and whisper something in her ear, then she disappeared down the hallway, just as the seven-month-old in Dean’s arms burst into tears.

Dean looked pleadingly at his younger brother, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh no,” Sam laughed. “I’d rather take on a nest of vampires.”

* * *

It took him almost an hour, but he managed to get Jay to sleep, tucked in his crib in the room across the hall from his and Donna’s. Sam had offered to take Emmy into town with him to pick up some supplies, promising they’d stop at the park to play for awhile. He’d dropped a wink over his shoulder at his older brother on the way out the door.

Dean grabbed the baby monitor and his cup of coffee, and made his way across the hall. Donna was sprawled across the bed, still wrapped in a towel, her blonde hair in a high ponytail, her breathing slow and even. He set his stuff on the low table just inside the door before sliding into bed beside her and wrapping himself around her. He brushed a kiss across her naked shoulder, breathing her in. His lips moved up her shoulder to her neck, pushing her hair that had fallen over her shoulder out of his way as he kissed a line along her jaw.

Donna shifted, turning to face him, the towel falling open as she pressed herself against him. She tilted her head back, giving him better access to her neck. He chuckled, dragging the light scruff on his chin against the soft skin on her shoulders.

“Sorry I woke you,” he murmured.

“No, you’re not,” Donna giggled.

“You’re right, I’m not.” Dean pushed his hand beneath the towel, his hand splayed across her stomach, his lips now on hers, kissing her hungrily.

A sharp cry from the baby monitor interrupted them. Donna pulled away from him with a quiet sigh, her hands on his chest, Dean’s lips chasing after hers.

“Cool it, Casanova,” she mumbled. “Duty calls.”

“I got him,” he said, untangling himself from Donna. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Never,” he heard her mutter.

He stopped in the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder at Donna and for the briefest second, it looked like she was covered in blood. It startled him, the jolt forcing him back a step, but he blinked and the image was gone. He drew in a stuttering breath and shook his head, trying to clear the horror from his head. Those days were long over.

He was two steps into the hall when he heard it, Sam calling his name, far away, almost as if he was hearing it through cotton stuffed ears. He stopped, looking up and down the hallway, listening intently. He heard it again, but he couldn’t place where it was coming from. Another step, Sam calling his name again, his fingers itching to have a gun in his hand. He dragged in another deep breath and forced himself to concentrate.

“Dean?” Donna called from the bedroom. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, babe, it’s fine,” he replied. He reached out, put his hand on the door to Jay’s room and tentatively pushed it open. It was quiet, no sounds coming from the crib. He took another look down the hall, but there was nothing. He took a step into the room.

A shiver ran through him and he heard Donna say “Goose walk over your grave?” except when he looked back, she was lying on the bed, eyes closed, calm, quiet. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and tried to shake off the feeling of wrongness worming its way through him. It had been a long time since he’d had to rely on his hunter’s instincts; he was probably just rusty.

Halfway across the room, he heard it again, Sam calling his name, followed immediately by what sounded like Donna screaming.

“Sammy!” he yelled, spinning on his heel. “Donna?”

The blow was unexpected, knocking him to his knees. He struggled to push himself to his feet, to fight, to protect the ones he loved. Another blow sent him face first onto the hard concrete, his chin bouncing off the floor, his teeth biting down on his tongue. The last thing he heard before he passed out was his brother and his wife calling his name.

* * *

The smell of blood was what forced his eyes open. He squinted, attempting to see, the light hitting his eyes like pinpricks from a needle. He tried to push himself up, but a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him. He put his hand to his head, wincing as his fingers scraped against a deep cut. His fingers came away tacky with blood.

“Dean?”

“Sammy?” he yelled. “Over here!”

His brother appeared a few seconds later, gun and flashlight in hand. “Dean, Jesus, you okay?” He dropped to his knees beside Dean, a hand under his arm, helping him up.

“Where the fuck are we?” he moaned, rubbing his head.

“Some backwoods farmhouse,” Sam shrugged. “Middle of nowhere.”

“What happened?”

“Djinn,” Sam explained. “Grabbed you and Donna a couple of days ago, outside the police station.”

“That explains a lot,” he mumbled. “How’d you find us?”

“You don’t remember?” Sam asked. “You called me, three, four hours ago. It was a hang up call from your phone, but it was long enough for me to use the GPS on your phone to find you.”

“The djinn?”

“Dead,” his brother replied.

“And Donna?” he asked.

Sam shook his head. “Haven’t found her yet.”

Dean cursed under his breath and pushed himself away from the wall. He had to find her.

He made his way through the house, Sam at his side, guns drawn. The door to the last room in the back of the house was open just an inch or two, and he could swear he heard movement on the other side. He pointed at Sam, who stepped up beside him, gun raised, and pushed open the door. He heard her before he saw her, the sounds of ragged breathing, painful, deep gurgling sounds that made his heart ache. Donna was lying less than a foot away from him, blood caked in her blonde hair, running from her nose and mouth, her brown eyes fluttering open and closed, her chest rising and falling minutely as she struggled to breathe. 

Dean shoved Sam out of his way, rushing to Donna’s side, falling to his knees beside her. He gathered her in his arms, holding her to his chest. He looked pleadingly at his younger brother.

“Sammy, we need to get her out of here.”


End file.
